Carry You Away
by karebear
Summary: "He can't be the only one who isn't sure where the boundary between them even is." Two-shot. Felix Alexius/Eris (Future Inquisitor)
1. Chapter 1

He can feel her presence through the bond that ties them together; a vibrating knot of energy at the back of his mind. After years of practice, it's easy enough to ignore the sensation most of the time. But now, he does not wish to block her out. Instead, he seeks her, something stirring inside the pit of his belly as he does so, the thrill of the forbidden, of Satinalia's promise of indulging in one's desires without guilt or lasting consequence.

He loiters at the door of the kitchens, feeling remarkably out of place. Yes, this is his home, but he's not certain he would know enough to feed himself if, through some sudden magic, he were the only one in the room. He watches the slaves bustling about, assembling beautiful trays of the expensive delicacies that go mostly ignored amid the machinations and politics taking place in the ballroom above.

He chews at his lower lip, remembering with sudden clarity the first time he'd recognized what the bond with Eris _meant_. He'd been young, but she'd been even younger, still a child. His mother had ordered her beaten, retribution for ruining one of these very same plates, and he'd… felt it. Not the pain, not exactly, but the emotions tangled up with it: fear and guilt and helpless rage. It had been more intense discomfort than he could ever remember feeling, and he'd immediately gone looking for the source. And he'd found it - found _her_ - hiding in a closet and begging him not to tell. And he'd _listened_.

He hasn't thought about that in years, he's certain she hasn't either, but the shock of recognition surges back through the bond, a flash of heat like carelessly touching a metal pan on the fire. She still doesn't look him directly in the eye, she's been too well trained to ignore the rules ingrained by their status, even if he wishes that she would.

"Is there something you need, Master?" she asks carefully, setting aside the bread she's been slicing to await his orders. Felix sighs. He can feel the bubble of focused non-attention around them, as everyone else in the room carries on with their duties with too much smooth skill for their avoidance of him to be accidental. It was easier when he could pretend that the slaves who anticipate his every need were invisible. Knowing that they're afraid of him - or at the very least that they're afraid of his family and everything they represent - makes it impossible to feel anything less than awkward when they are forced to occupy the same space.

"Come with me," he says softly to Eris. He keeps his voice even, knowing that there can be no misinterpreting the words as anything other than an order; it's important to keep up appearances at all times. Not that she'd refuse anyway. He can feel her acknowledgment of his command, it feels like a held breath. She nods slightly, and he can feel the shiver run through her when his fingers quickly brush over hers. Just for a second, but he needs that touch, the reassurance that she is real, physical. Not just a presence in his head. There has been too much swirling doubt, of late, and it only gets worse with every party and meeting he's forced to attend. Eris centers him. He needs her, far more than he'd ever feel safe admitting aloud.

Even after all this time, neither of them is certain why the empathic link between them is so strong. They know that it isn't supposed to work this way, but it's been part of their lives for so long that neither of them can imagine what it would be like to live without it. Felix feels twitchy when he's separated from her, even for a few days, on visits to Vyrantium or Qarinus with his father.

She follows him, uncertain even still. He can feel her heartbeat stutter when he shuts the door to his quarters, leaving the two of them alone. "Eris, look at me," he begs her. "Please," he adds softly. She does, but he can feel her fear. It's impossible for her to hide from him. "I'm not going to hurt you," he promises. "How can you _still_ not trust me?"

She avoids the question. Instead, she fixes his hair, straightens his clothes… "Dammit, Eris," he hisses, pushing her away. She flinches at the anger in his tone.

"Shouldn't you be out there at the party?" she asks him carefully. Making it clear that she knows her place, and won't presume to tell him what to do. But surely he knows as well as she does that his parents were certainly be expecting him to be out there making alliances and showing off his good manners and fine breeding. That there will be consequences for both of them if he's discovered hiding here with her instead.

"I don't want to be out there," Felix replies, with a hint of his old childhood petulance. "I want to be here with you."

Her eyes widen, but then she nods. She won't fight him. Not even on this. Maybe especially not on this. She starts to pull off her clothing, until he stops her, gently resting his hand her arm. "Not like that!" he babbles. Embarrassment floods his cheeks with a red heat. "Fasta vass!" he curses. How could she think…? He sits down on the edge of his bed, trying to think this through. "I wouldn't do that," he insists. "I wouldn't… take advantage of you."

She shrugs, and stands near the wall, watching him. Still waiting. "Vishante kaffas," he sighs, squirming under her impossible scrutiny. "Why can't we just be… friends?"

"We're _not_ friends," she demands.

It isn't his fault, but there are rules, and she has to follow them. There must always be a barrier between them, no matter how difficult it is to maintain when he's always in her head.

"Pour me some wine, then," he demands. She does, immediately, retrieving the bottle from its hiding place locked under his bedside table. She hands him the glass and watches him drink it, far more quickly than he would out there in polite company.

She doesn't even wait for him to hold out the glass before she's refilling it. This time, he just holds it, staring down into its bloody depths. "Pour yourself a glass, too."

"I can't."

He glances up at her, meeting her eyes before she can break away. "Eris, please." He can feel the ripple of concern filling her even as she stands there with practiced passivity. He's not sure if it's concern for him or concern for herself. Maybe it's both. He can't be the only one who isn't sure where the boundary between them even is. "Maker. I'm just so sick of… of pretending. I can't act like I don't care! I can't act like there's nothing between us. I literally cannot stop thinking about you, ever. It's not what either of us wants and I know that, but we're stuck with it. So have some damn wine! It's Satinalia."

She frowns, but pours herself a glass because he told her to. The wine is sweet and heavy and it makes her head spin dangerously. "Sit down," Felix orders. She does, joining him on the bed, in the space he makes for her by shifting over a bit. She can't count the number of hours she's spent in here, doing all the things that, by virtue of his status, Felix will never do for himself - cleaning, serving, helping him dress, keeping all of his things organized. She might know how to live his life better than even he does. But this is the first time she's allowed him to pretend, even for a few moments, that they could be equals. She doesn't let herself relax entirely, but she pretends, for his sake, sipping slowly at the wine until he takes a larger gulp from his own glass and raises an eyebrow, turning it into a dare. Soon enough, they've finished the bottle, and Felix at least, is laughing, and singing a few of the dirty songs he'd learned from the other party guests his age. His voice is off-key, and disturbingly loud, but Eris smiles anyway.

"Take a drink," Felix tells her.

"The wine's gone."

"Go get more."

She fishes out another bottle, figuring he can nurse this one himself. And he does, no longer bothering with glasses, no longer caring to keep up appearances.

"Have you kissed anyone today?" he slurs. There's an old Satinalia tradition promising a long and fruitful relationship to the couples who find each other tonight. Eris doesn't bother responding. Of course she hasn't.

"Haven't you?" she asks softly.

Felix snorts. "I have, of course."

"But not the one you wanted."

"It never is."

He drifts closer to her, hovering just far away to not touch, waiting, with bated breath, for her to give him some sign of permission. "It's Satinalia," he reminds her. Eris nods.

Felix rests his hand on her cheek, taking a few careful slow, deep breaths, inhaling the scent of her, the subtle magic in this moment when he can let the rest of the world fade away. His lips brush hers gently, and she doesn't resist. The warmth of her floods him, and though the bond between them does not translate directly into words, and never has, he can read her thoughts instantly: desire, acceptance, peace. A whispered prayer, resonating in both of their hearts, a wish that this could last. That it could be real.

* * *

><p>For <strong>JayRain<strong>, in thanks for your invaluable friendship and in appreciation for the inspiration your recent obsession with Tevinter has provided.

Titled after the song by Us And Our Daughters, which has the honor of being the first song to be added to my Eris-writing playlist.


	2. Chapter 2

The autumn air is brisk in the forests at the border of the Imperium, and Felix' teeth chatter even wrapped as he is in layers of blanets, so close to the campfire that he may actually be in danger of burning himself, as difficult as it his for him to control his muscle spasms lately.

"Eat something, please," Eris insists, pushing a bowl of soup into his hands. The warmth of it seeps through his skin.

"What are you looking for?" she asks him, not for the first time. In ten years, he has never taken her with him on any of trips away from the estate in Minrathous. She doesn't know how to go camping. Neither does he. But he needs her to take care of him, so she doesn't ask questions. At least not without any expectation of real answers. His thoughts slip away even at the best of times, these days. And, more and more, he makes impulsive nonsensical decisions. Like taking her camping, all alone.

"I'm _dying_," Felix insists.

"I know," Eris whispers.

She still won't meet his eyes, though Felix knows her well enough to know that it's not because she's trying to avoid him. If anything, it's because they know each other so well that even limited contact is more than enough.

She bows her head, and draws her body up tight at the edge of the rock she's using as a makeshift chair, tense and defensive. She doesn't resist or protest when he rests a gentle hand on her shoulder. When she flinches – only barely, but he notices – she does it when he pulls away.

He lets his fingers tangle up with hers, and she listens to his ragged breaths, rattling in his chest. He flesh is pale and disturbing scaly. Often, he is too weak even to stand. Of course he's dying – they've known it for years. And despite his attempts to hide the worst from her, how could he? His father cares only for demonstrating his own power in his increasingly desperate attempts to reverse the irreversible. Eris is the one who feeds him, bathes him, soothes him to sleep, and does what she can to ease the constant pain.

"Eris, be still," he commands gently. She stops fussing over him, and he lets himself breathe again, trying desperately to ignore the pain it causes.

"Felix..." she attempts, a tremulous murmur. She's still cautious about speaking out of turn, even now. He sighs, and it quickly turns into a brutal cough. Eris resists the urge to rummage about for medicine – there's nothing that will work anyway.

Felix forces himself to stay alert enough to finish what he's started. He's been thinking about this for a long time, planning it, turning it over and over in his mind. It kills him, almost literally, to see her shying away from him, afraid of what his absence will mean for her future.

"Eris, listen to me," he begs her. She does, of course, she always does. This time, her listening is accompanied by a tiny nod, an acknowledgement that whatever he's about to say is especially important. He struggles to find the words, and eventually he stops trying. Instead, he pulls her close to him, until their foreheads are touching, and they are breathing the same small bit of air, pulling in from each others exhalations. Tied together.

He breathes through clenched teeth, in shallow gasps, but even still, Eris shrinks away from the real sensation of death within him. She gasps when he tightens his grip on her wrist, refusing to let her escape. Not yet. He isn't ready yet.

He can't sacrifice the concentration it would take to apologize for hurting her, so he doesn't. Instead, he simply pushes the force of his magic against her barriers. They are strong, he has never been able to break them. Until now, he's never had to try. "Let me in," he hisses, and she shakes her head and trembles in his arms. Felix can't afford to stop pushing – giving up now might mean he'll never be able to complete this intense mental ritual. It's now or never. "Let me in," he whispers, more gently. Eris stops fighting him, though whether that's because he asked her nicely or because he overwhelmed her resistance he can't take the time to sort out, and it doesn't especially matter anyway. He can feel the power in her, mana surging up to mingle with his. Eris sucks in a harsh breath, and he notices that she's biting her lip hard enough to draw blood. He pulls away, just slightly, and relaxes his physical grip on her. They are still tied together though, by knots of power he isn't at all sure he can untangle. The bond between them has existed for so long that he can't remember it ever not being there. It's like air. Like magic, and memory, and family. It scares him how easy it is to stop seeing the things that are always there.

He's never thought to figure out what makes the bond between them work, but he needs to figure it out now, and quickly. Eris gasps in shock but doesn't scream – she's learned not to – when he pulls a knife from the nearby table and slashes it across his palm. The bond was planted with blood; it has to be broken that way too. "Hold out your hand," he orders. Without thinking, Eris does it. She doesn't even feel the knife.

He holds her fingers tightly wrapped in his, feeling their blood mingling together, sticky and strong. Eris squirms, but a Felix puts slight pressure on her shoulder with his free hand, and she stills. He's not strong enough to hold her down, not anymore, but the weight of years of ingrained obedience means he doesn't have to be.

"What are you doing?" she asks softly, knowing that this is unlike any ritual of _taking_ she's experienced before. It hurts, but she trusts him. Despite the pain flaring inside a skull that feels too small to contain it, despite the fact that it hurts to breathe, that she couldn't talk even if she wanted to, there is something in her that she _can_ reach – the knowledge that she trusts him. Whatever he asks of her, she'll give. She'll give everything to save him. If that is what he's asking, she'll do it without hesitation.

Tears fall from Felix's eyes as he holds her still and probes with cautious, trembling fingers through the tangled knots of magic that holds them together. He starts pushing, sticking his tongue out as he thinks his way through the pain. Eris cries and flinches, pushing him away.

"_Fasta vass!_" Felix hisses, wrestling her down. "Be still," he repeats.

He has to concentrate. The force of his will folds hers beneath it. Her eyes slip closed and if he listens to the rhythm of her breathing, it gets easier. The knots slowly dissolve, though their complexity makes them difficult to untangle. He gets close enough to know there's no undoing it now. He has to break the bond, or Eris will die with his trying. She blinks up at him, with dull, sleepy eyes.

"Eris, are you listening?" Felix asks, with urgency born of pain and desperation. His hand is still sticky with her blood. She nods. He can't feel what she's feeling anymore. Maybe it's enough. He doesn't know what else to do. He's never known how to do enough to free her from the damage that he's caused her.

She bows her head, and does not protest when he draws her close to him and trails his fingers through the gentle tangles of her dark hair. "Listen to me," he insists.

She looks up, and meets his eyes. A shiver of recognition, loss and gain in equal measure, runs through their bodies. The final strands of the bond suddenly collapse. It doesn't hurt anymore.

"You're free," Felix breathes.

Eris stares at him, a frown of confusion painting her features, as she slowly pulls away. She doesn't look any different, and he wants so badly just to hold her close. Keep her safe. But he _can't_, anymore – he never really could – and they both know it. "I can't... fix everything," he whispers harshly. He won't let himself touch her, there's too much temptation he's not sure he'd be able to resist. He tightens his fingers into a clenched fist instead, and digs it into the ground. "I can't fix everything," he repeats. "But I can do this for you. The border isn't far. You can slip into Orlais. No one will know you there. You can... you can be... whatever. Whoever you want to be."

"But I'll have to leave you."

Felix nods. "Eris, I'm already gone."

"You're not," she pleads. She reaches out, with her blood-stained fingers, and gently squeezes his hand. He pulls away. He cannot let her stay. He cannot drag her down with him, into a life that's worse than death. It's now or never. No matter how badly it hurts.

"Go!" he screams, and his voice echoes back from the cliffs.

Eris flinches away from the sound of his raw and desperate pain. When only silence remains, she holds his gaze, stubborn and determined, _real_ in a way that makes Felix smile through his tears. "You can't tell me what to do anymore," she points out.

"Eris, please..."

She nods. "Thank you, Felix," she whispers, quietly. There is nothing more to say. They are, now, already gone.


End file.
